


Kiss and Run

by jazzypizzaz



Category: The Tick (TV 2017)
Genre: Coming Out, First Kiss, M/M, New Relationship, lots of talking and freaking out and stammering, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 05:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18844486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzypizzaz/pseuds/jazzypizzaz
Summary: Arthur, perpetual wet blanket and neurotic mess, kisses his newest best friend and partner in crime-fighting and that is definitely not supposed to happen.  Oh no. Ohhhh no.A burgling of besos, a stolen canoodle, an abrupt brush of the lips... It's a kiss and run, as Arthur flees the scene to talk over this new development with Dot.





	Kiss and Run

“Wow! That was like a cherry bomb in my mouth!” Tick says, with his usual bombast, drawing out the initial exclamation into two syllables. His antennas twitch outwards then back in. He hesitates, then says, softer this time: “In _our_ mouths.”

A bomb -- bombs were bad right? Arthur is a bit dazed himself. He’s not sure what just happened. “That bad huh,” he mumbles.

Tick tilts his head, scrutinizing Arthur like he’s the 15 across clue in the crossword puzzle this morning (9 letters: “Main squeeze“ and the answer wasn’t lobster juice). His eye contact is earnest and searching and a tinsey bit expectant. Arthur’s cheeks heat up under the scrutiny, and he licks his lips which feel --

Like they just kissed someone. Oh god, Arthur kissed someone. Arthur kissed _the Tick_.

One brief moment they were on a normal stakeout behind a dumpster, idly chatting about the possible role of pigeons as ever watchful City sentinels (Tick was certain they would have vital intel that could be exchanged for french fries; Arthur was trying in vain to convince him they are urban pests, nothing more)... and then Tick had chortled heartily at some dumb joke Arthur said, the kind of wry observation that just a couple weeks ago Arthur would have muttered under his breath at the accounting office without acknowledgement, and Arthur had been overwhelmed by a strange swooshing sensation in his gut, _possessed_ by it, by being seen and appreciated, and he had leaned in towards this ridiculous blue friend of his and -- Why did he do that?

Arthur, perpetual wet blanket and neurotic mess, kissed his newest best friend and partner in justice and -- that was definitely _not_ supposed to happen. Oh no. Ohhhh no.

Arthur takes a few deep breaths and fixes his attention back to the alley door as he flips through the timetable on his helmet screen. “Uuhh, we uh -- the Bodega Bandito should be heading past this way any moment. We can’t -- we shouldn’t be distracted. And I’m, I didn’t mean to do that, to you. Probably. Uh... sorry?”

“No apologies accepted, ole chum.” Tick claps a heavy hand on Arthur’s shoulder. Same uncomplicated gesture as ever, but it's not quite enough to reassure him. “I’ve been positively parched for a quenching gulp from the river of heroism. The sweet sweet taste of all that is good and true, fresh on my lips. Aaaah!”

“What?” Arthur has no idea what that reaction means, good or bad. He sinks down lower behind the dumpster, starting to feel a bit sick.

“The call of justice beckons! Tiddlyho!” Tick exclaims in response, a non sequitur until Arthur realizes Tick has leapt out from their hiding spot and is already halfway towards the street.

A bulldog in a domino mask and bowler hat scampers past the alley, handles of a large cloth bag he drags behind him clenched in his mouth as he runs.

Arthur does his best to sprint after the Bandito and Tick, but the burning in his lungs as he tries to keep up doesn't quite overpower the anxiety creeping in at the edges of his heart.  When he sees the Tick successfully apprehend the criminal halfway down the block, and the police already swerving up to the scene, Arthur feels a deep churning in his gut at the thought of confronting what happened (the  _kiss_ ) with Tick after the action dies down.

He takes the opportunity to u-turn his fumbling jog in the opposite direction.

Saved from an awkward conversation by a dog stealing block’s worth of convenience foods. What has his life become.

\---

Before Tick can follow, Arthur sends a couple quick texts, to ensure Tick knows that he's fine and to keep him occupied while he's gone, and then finds himself wandering aimlessly around the City, as if he can pound out some reassurance from the pavement beneath his feet.  There's been so much change in his life recently, without enough of a breather to process any of it, and this is just the latest emotional cherry on top of that particular sundae.  Cherry _bomb_.

He never really gave much thought to his sexuality or to romantic love, for the simple reason that he never had much of a reason to.

What he did know, regarding his own interests, was limited… For one, he was reasonably certain he wasn't attracted to AI boats, although that had taken some soul-searching. Tough break for DB, but regular movie nights with the whole gang there had helped gloss over that initial disappointment.

Oh, and for another -- Arthur did always assume he was gay. There was that.

But it had always been more in the distant conceptual sense, like how other people claimed they knew they were Whiffenpoofs or Hottentots or whatever the terms were even though they’d never go to Hogwarts. Until very recently, his entire life had been consumed by obsession, by vengeance, by trying and trying and trying to be normal, by failing. Not only had it never really occurred to him that having attractions he would want to act on -- like an acceptance letter to a magical wizarding school -- would even be a possible option for him, he also just hadn’t had the _room_ for it.

Or a person who might reciprocate.

(Or who he might instead lose forever.)

Before the Tick, Arthur didn't even have friends in his life, not really. Sure, he had never doubted the love of his family, but until again very recently, their relationship had been too wrapped up with obligation and guilt and trauma on his part. It wasn't the same.

That was the whole trouble, wasn’t it. The Tick had turned everything around for him. Not just the whole superhero thing, but how he connected with other people. The Tick’s boundless compassion and righteousness had allowed Arthur to uncurl from his protective shell, to use his exposed pain to relate to others in way he never even knew he was capable of.

The Tick made him feel utterly, completely safe. No small feat for a twitchy traumatized kid whose dad had been murdered in front of him.

But how many steps in the direction of embracing this softer, more open Arthur was even possible before he stopped feeling terrified about it.

\---

“What’s up with you today.” Dot takes a long drink from her soda, staring at him pointedly.

“Hmm?” Arthur pokes one fry with another, pushing them around the plate.

She called not too long into Arthur's dazed meandering, and he had quickly accepted her offhand suggestion they get lunch, thinking maybe she could help.  His sister always had a way of grounding him, getting him out of his head.  Plus, she's good company and they hadn't had a chance to catch up much after the whole AEGIS thing went down.  Now that he’s here with her though, he's still lost in his thoughts and can't connect. He has the vague sense that she had been telling him some long story about Walter, but he can’t recall a word of it.

“Arthur… Not that you’ve ever been the most chatty of people, but something is clearly up, and we agreed not to keep secrets -- seriously, what cat got your tongue?”

“No one has my tongue,” Arthur blurts out. “My tongue is safely in my own mouth, and not anyone else’s, right where it belongs.”

“Okay…”

“And my lips are here, on my own face--”

“Wow, okay, you’ve clearly been hanging out with the Tick too much.”

“Why? What did he say about me?” Arthur jerks, his stomach plunging with cold water.

“No, what? I meant --”

“Oh god Dot, I think I messed everything up.”

“Huh? I just meant you started to sound like him; the goofy literal things he says sometimes. It’s sweet.” Dot scrunches her eyebrows, suddenly worried. “Arthur… what happened?”

“Nothing,” he says, but with his face buried in his hands the word is a muffled mess. Dot waits, not accepting that as an answer, and finally he squeaks out, “I kissed him.”

Arthur peeks out at her with a chagrined look. She hasn’t changed expressions, apparently still waiting for him to say more.

“So?” she says, losing patience.

“So?!” He throws his hands up. “So it’s a big deal!”

“Arthur, I know that you’ve never exactly _came out_ to us, but you know that I love you no matter what and I didn’t think it was a big secret --”

“No no, I mean yes I am gay and thank you for your support, but I kissed _the Tick_.” He stares at her intently, waiting for her to react as floored as he feels.

“But you two are always --” She gestures with her hands, incomprehensibly, expecting him to fill in the blank. He squints.

“Always what?”

“Hugging. Holding hands… Cuddling. You’re already boyfriends, right?”

“Partners, Dot! _Superhero_ partners! A crime-fighting duo. Roommates… Friends.” That’s already a lot, isn’t it? God, how could he even begin to think about asking Tick for more, after all he’s done for him.

Her eyes widen. “But all this time I thought -- you’ve really never kissed before? Oh my god Arthur, spill -- was it romantic?”

“I don’t see how romantic it could be, it was behind a dumpster.” Arthur sighs. “You know I don’t exactly have much experience with, uh, with stuff like this.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Dot says gently. She half-smiles, fiddling with the straw on her cup. “Was it nice though? Was he nice?”

“Yeah… I think so, I don’t have a comparison, but that’s not --” Arthur doesn’t want this to become a pity party, but he feels very out of his depth. “It could _change_ things. Right? That can happen.”

“I don’t see why it has to.” She shrugs, as if it were that easy. “You’re Arthur and the Tick.”

“I’m going to regret asking, but what’s up with you and Overkill?”

“I see you, trying to change the subject.”

“Yeah well, lately seems like whatever mess I find myself involved in, you tangle yourself up in something similar.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at him. “He cares about me, I care about him, and I don’t need my little brother’s judgement about that. We’re… superhero partners.”

“Uh-huh,” Arthur smirks, enjoying the briefly turned tables.

“And we’re not all lovey-dovey like you two, we wear all black and we’re hardcore. We don’t cuddle. Much. Unless it’s cold and we’re on a stakeout. In the rain. At midnight. But _I’m_ not the one asking for relationship advice.”

“Neither am I!” Arthur sighs, resigned. “But... I could use it. I mean… you’ve met him, Tick. He can’t remember last month and gets easily confused by normal simple things, he’s probably some kind of alien--”

“So, he’s different.” Dot doesn’t look too impressed, mistaking where Arthur’s going with this. “So what, you’re kind of a freak too.”

“He’s _special_ ,” Arthur says firmly, patting the table for emphasis. “He’s the most loving person I’ve ever met and he believes in the inherent goodness of the world and he could punch through any wall but all he truly wants is a worldwide group hug...”

“And what if you’re not good enough for him? Seriously? Have you seen how he looks at you?”

“No, I mean -- What if he doesn’t feel that way? Like, in general, about anyone? He doesn’t even know who he _is_. I don’t want to -- make it complicated. I don’t want to confuse him more, or ask for something he doesn’t even understand, or make him feel guilty if I want something he doesn’t.” Arthur rubs at his eyes beneath his glasses. He’s _not_ going to cry in front of his sister at a Burger Place. Again. “I can’t screw this up Dot. I can’t.”

“Hey,” she says and reaches over to cover her hands with hers. “Hey, if he doesn’t want to be boyfriends, or more like boyfriends than you are already, then I think the only question you really need to ask if _you_ would be okay with that. If nothing changed and you went on crime-fighting and living together as normal, do you think _you_ could handle that?”

“Of course,” Arthur says without thinking. He repeats himself more confidently. “Of _course_ that would be okay. But that’s not the problem -- What if he decides he needs distance? What if he wants to moonlight with a new partner instead? What now I make him uncomfortable --”

“Then I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit. You need to be talking about this with him, not hiding out with me. You know he needs you as much as you need him. Plus, he’s the most intelligent, understanding person I know.” She pokes Arthur in the chest. “Where it counts.”

“Yeah,” Arthur smiles and he relaxes for the first time all day. _Choose love, not fear._ “Yeah he is.”

“Besides me of course. I’m a pretty great sister, I’d say.”

“Yeah, you are. Thanks Dot.”

\---

Arthur hesitates for a moment outside the door to his walk-up, hand outstretched to the handle.  Overkill had texted Dot that he couldn't distract the Tick any longer, because he had important dangerous business to attend to (probably just cleaning his guns and grimacing darkly in Dangerboat), so Arthur pretty much has to return home now.

He takes a couple deep breaths, eyes screwed shut in an attempt to center himself. It’s okay, it’s okay, choose love --

“Hey there chum! Is it time for stooping now? Out here on the stoop? Hey, that would make us _stooper_ heroes!”

Arthur blinks, craning his head upwards. How is Tick always even bigger and bluer than Arthur can remember. It’s dazzling. “Uh… No? No, we can go inside.”

“You were out burging for a _loooong time_.” Tick sighs in that exaggerated way he does when Arthur leaves him alone for any amount of time, whether it be five minutes or five hours. “Now, I do hope that burging is unrelated to _burglaring_ , or we’re going to have some words--”

“Burg- what? Oh, no I was at the Burger Place, with Dot. Overkill was supposed to tell you that.”

“Burger Place, a place at which to _burg_ ,” Tick recites, antennas twitching as if Arthur is being deliberately slow.

“No, it’s, a burger is a type of food --” They enter the apartment and Arthur gasps, shocked still. “Oh _jesus_ _,_  shit,what happened here Tick?”

“Target practice! With Overkill!” Tick says proudly. “I won, or at least I did if the contest was who has the most fun." He puts his hands on his hips in a hero's pose. "Which it was!”

One wall of Arthur’s apartment is pockmarked both with bullet holes -- and with what appears to be silverware, handles sticking out of the plaster. There’s even a plastic spatula or two wedged in there. Crude drawings of several people, and what looks like a dinosaur, are drawn around the deployed arsenal.

“Target - oh okay.” Arthur rubs his hand over his face. He trudges in and droops onto the couch. “I guess I pretty much surrendered the deposit anyway when that hole got blasted in my wall.”

“I will _never_ surrender! Not when justice is on the chopping block. I will never stop chopping, not even if I have to do it with a spoon, like the spoons in your wall when we ran out of bullets, except that wasn’t chopping it was throwing. Sometimes you have to do what you must, to throw a spoon --”

“Hey Tick,” Arthur interrupts. “Sorry, I -- hey, could we talk about, about this morning? Just, quickly.”

“Yes, this morning! Why, I remember it like it was yesterday.  No wait, after that.  I remember it like it was earlier today...” The Tick sits down beside Arthur and drapes an arm around Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur can’t stop himself from sinking towards him, into that sweet cocoon of security. He breathes.

“Yeah, um. Have you ever kissed anyone before, Tick?”

“Why yes, chum!”

Arthur’s stomach sinks a little, weirdly disappointed, but also relieved at least that this wasn’t one of Tick’s many unknowns. Most adults have, after all, as a rite of passage, part of a normal happy youth... Then he squints, suspicious. “Let me rephrase -- have you ever kissed anyone before the alley this morning, uh before you and me --"

"No idea!"

"And it’s okay if you don’t want to again, but I’m just curious, and and I need to know if --”

“And I _liked_ it!”

“Oh!” A blossom of warmth spreads in Arthur’s stomach. Arthur licks his lips. “Uhh okay good. Good. I -- I liked it too. Do you… do you want…?”

Tick listens, nothing but blank confusion and a patient smile on his face, as Arthur rambles and stammers -- attentive, open, sincere. Arthur says, calm finally, “Do you want to do that again? K-kiss?”

“Only if it’s with you, chum,” Tick says carefully, both antennas curving forward as he leans in, so it appears that he’s looming over Arthur even more than usual.

“Of course, yes with me. Who else -- ? The Tick and Arthur.” Arthur gestures between them.

“Arthur, and the Tick,” Tick corrects.

“Partners in crime-fighting and, uh, kissing.”

“Grrrrreat!” Tick says with such exuberance, that Arthur has flashbacks to a certain cartoon cereal-eating tiger. “Because when we kiss, it’s like our mouths are connected to each other’s hearts -- and _elsewhere_ \-- careening down a log flume on a one-way river to love. Like hugging, but wetter! Hugging with our mouths, and our _hearts_. And to that I say one thing -- splish splash.”

“Splish splash,” Arthur repeats breathlessly, gazing into the eyes of this ridiculous, genuine man who has saved him in so many ways.

Arthur closes his eyes and parts his lips. Tick’s mouth meets his, firm and strong and tender, and Arthur melts into that wild blue yonder.


End file.
